


A Tale Worth Telling

by Spirit126



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cross-Generational Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spirit126/pseuds/Spirit126
Summary: Balgruuf stumbles upon a scene between his youngest, Nelkir, and the Dragonborn, Runa. While listening, he learns a couple things he hadn't known before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Runa is my female Nord Dragonborn I've played on-and-off for a while in Skyrim. I have a pretty thorough background and story for her ranging from her life before Skyrim to the Thalmor's retaliation when she helps drive them from the country. Her relationship with Nelkir is, in my mind, a pretty important part of both their lives. This work represents it in its earliest stages (Nelkir idolizing her and Runa indulging his want for stories) but it does develop further. This one might end up under a larger group of stories that follow Runa's life as the Dragonborn at some point or another, or I might leave it by itself. I have to write the other stories before I decide.
> 
> Note: Runa is around 24 or 25 here.

It was two months after the Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar and Runa, the aforementioned Dragonborn, had just returned from the mountaintop. Balgruuf summoned her to his halls once word of her return reached him and he sat quietly as she told him a brief summary of her journey thus far. She didn’t go into much detail, but there was hardness to her face that had been lacking at their first meeting. He had seen the same look in the eyes of men who had seen great and terrible battles during the War and sometimes he even saw the look in his own mirror. He thought better of asking her for the full account.

Dinner passed with the Dragonborn as his guest of honor. She talked quietly with whoever asked her questions, but Balgruuf soon noticed that she kept mostly to herself. Very rarely did she seek out others with the exception of her housecarl, Lydia, and surprisingly Farengar. They spoke briefly but animatedly, exchanging quick words before passing small parcels between themselves. Farengar looked pleased at the end and the Dragonborn tucked something into her bag, a small smile on her face. Balgruuf watched them suspiciously for the rest of the night, but they never spoke again.

In the hours following dinner his attention was stolen by his duties once more. The Dragonborn disappeared from his table and many of his court members either returned to duty or retired for the evening, leaving his halls relatively quiet. Time dragged by slowly and Balgruuf could fell sleep approaching quicker with each cup of mead he downed. Finally Proventus signed his name of the last of his paperwork with the damned flourish he liked so much and declared their day done. Balgruuf sighed and stood from his throne, his back aching and his knees stiff. It was times like these he truly felt his age.

He climbed the stairs slowly. Apparently he had too much mead; the stairs swayed under him like the boats he rode in his youth. His hand pressed against the wall in a pathetic bid to steady him. Hrongar would never let him forget it if he saw him now.

“What happened?”

Balgruuf froze as he recognized Nelkir’s voice. Letting any of his children see him like this was not something he wanted to happen. He looked up the stars, eyes bleary from the drink and heavy with want for sleep.

“I went to get the Horn,” Runa’s voice answered.

“That can’t be the _entire_ story,” Nelkir whined, “That sounds so boring!”

“…well no,” Runa’s voice was soft, hesitant in ways it hadn’t been hours before, “But the rest is a little… disturbing.”

Balgruuf tilted his head and regretted it almost immediately. The world tilted and turned around him, nearly throwing him down the stairs. Only his perilous grip on a board kept him from making a fool of himself in front of his guards, child, and the Dragonborn.

“Tell me,” Nelkir demanded, “I’m ten – I can handle anything.”

He had to hold in a snort at the bravado in his son’s voice. Let it never be said his children were cowards.

“Well… the crypt the horn was kept in was hidden in a swamp below Solitude.” Runa answered.

Balgruuf would forever deny that he crept up the steps like an errant child and hid in the shadows just to listen. He spied his son and the Dragonborn sitting across his war room, sharing a bench under the flickering light of a torch. It had never truly occurred to Balgruuf how small Runa was until that moment, seeing her sit next to his son. Nelkir would almost be at her shoulder if they stood side by side and he would easily dwarf the woman if they stood together. Somehow he had always imagined her to be… taller.

He eyed the books and parchment between them curiously. Runa even had a small pot of ink and a quill between her leg and the arm of the bench. Nelkir held a book open his lap, but his eyes were fixed on Runa with a glee Balgruuf hadn’t seen in him since he was a baby.

“Were there spiders?” He asked excitedly, “I bet there were spiders.”

Runa smiled weakly and nodded her head, her hair nearly looking close to flames under the torchlight. “There were spiders – big ones that could drag off a horse if they wanted. The damned things attacked me while I was slogging through the mud to find the tomb.”

“Obviously you killed them,” Nelkir huffed.

“Of course; once they catch your scent they’ll chase you across Skyrim herself if you don’t.”

“What else was there?”

Runa looked thoughtful for a moment, and then answered, “…witches and… bandits. Reanimated ones; it looked like they got into a fight and the bandits lost.”

Nelkir looked confused. “Re…animated?”

“Dead bodies controlled by magic. Nasty stuff, but they turn to ash if you kill them,” was the blunt, matter-of-fact explanation.

Balgruuf almost interfered at the horrified look on his son’s face. Nelkir already had trouble sleeping and he didn’t need some mindless stories from a silly girl making it worse, Dragonborn or not. He was moments from running (stumbling) across the room and giving her the worst tongue lashing she had ever received, but something stopped him.

Nelkir’s face lit with joy and he leaned toward Runa excitedly. “You fight people who use _magic_!?” He breathed. Balgruuf had to strain to hear him from so far away.

Runa, who had seen the same look Balgruuf had and almost looked regretful, was now the picture of confusion. “O-of course,” she mumbled, “Just because the Nords don’t like magic doesn’t mean the rest of the world gave it up. It’s usually the first thing people throw at me, actually. They think I’m helpless against it just because I don’t use it.”

“But you only have your sword and axe!” Nelkir yelped, “How do you stop the spells from hurting you?” Even Balgruuf was a bit curious to hear her answer.

“Oh,” her eyes slid to her pack, open at her feet, “I use some potions when they’re using strong spells, but mostly a shield I picked up in Winterholm. It has an enchantment to resist magic… not a strong one, but it’s good enough right now. I’ll find a better one later.”

“Do you have a lot of potions for things like that?” Nelkir asked, even as he reached down and began rifling through her pack without asking.

Runa didn’t seem to mind in the least. She shrugged and said, “I have some potions to resist poison and a couple healing and stamina potions. I think there may even be one in there to cure diseases, but I’m not entirely sure. I might have used that one after fighting some wolves a couple weeks ago…”

Nelkir came back with a small, green bottle that lacked a label. He examined it curiously, uncorking it and sniffing at its contents. His face twisted at the smell and he held it away, gagging. “Ugh,” he groaned, “What is this?”

Runa took it, hiding a snicker behind a curtain of crimson hair. “That would be a poison, young one. We best wash your hands before you eat or drink anything – this one happens to be pretty powerful.”

Nelkir paled and Balgruuf began to stand. Runa dropped the bottle into her bag and produced a small, wooden container that she unscrewed. She held it out to Nelkir silently and waited as he sniffed at its contents, and then scooped some into his hands. It turned out to be a thick, green paste that Balgruuf could smell across the room with notes of thistle and garlic, along with a grassy undertone.

“What’s this one?” Nelkir asked.

Runa had removed her gloves and dropped scooped some of the paste into her owns hands as well. “It’s to stop any poison you may have gotten on your hands,” she answered, “You rub it into your skin and let it dry. Do it quickly, before the poison sinks in.”

Nelkir watched her scrub her hands together for a moment, and then followed her example. Balgruuf waited with baited breath as his son worked the paste into his skin, grimacing at the feel of it but not willing to disappoint the woman next to him. Runa’s movements were quick and efficient; she was used to using the paste on a regular basis. Once her hands were dry she dropped the wooden container back into her bag and watched how Nelkir finished with his own hands, correcting him silently once or twice. He finished and she nodded, apparently satisfied.

Balgruuf let himself sag against the wall and slide to the floor. He cringed when he landed with a heavy but quiet thud and looked at the pair warily.

Runa was staring directly at him, her icy eyes boring into his own. He watched emotions flicker behind her gaze – first fear, and then wariness, anger, shame, and finally pride. Her eyes sharpened to daggers for a moment, and then softened as she turned back to Nelkir, jaw clenched and shoulders stiff.

“We’d best finish this,” she said, motioning to the mess between them, “It’s getting late.”

Nelkir looked at the books like he was seeing them for the first time. “Right,” he muttered, “Where were we?”

“You were picking a page for me to read,” she answered him, but her eyes were locked on the Jarl hiding in the shadows. They dared him to say anything. Balgruuf kept his mouth shut and watched, curious.

“Read this one, then,” Nelkir handed her his book, “And be quick, because I was supposed to be in bed an hour ago.”

Runa’s eyes left the Jarl and turned to the book in her hands. She licked her lips, furrowed her brows, and began reading the words slowly and carefully, like a child just learning their letters. Balgruuf was as surprised by the uncertainty in her voice as he was by the authoritative attitude his son had adopted. Nelkir was a good reader, he knew, but he had never thought the Dragonborn wasn’t. It honestly hadn’t even crossed his mind. Now that he knew, however, he found that it didn’t lower his opinion of the woman any. In all the time he knew her he had judged the Dragonborn by her strength and courage, not the depth of her knowledge. Knowing that she was moving to improve herself, even in secret and with the help of a child less than half her age, earned his respect.

Balgruuf leaned against the wall and listened to Runa regale them with the tale of the Red Eagle.


End file.
